#elysevent

Mathieu was extremely annoyed that the one day off he had given himself this month to go and do one of his favorite things, relax in Central Park, was taken over by the city throwing some stupid festival; especially one that was so thinly veiled as an attempt to bring supernaturals and humans together. He grumbled to himself as he laid on the grass, his headphones in, trying his best to just ignore all the loud tourists, and festival goers. He finally gave up as a frisbee landed on his face for the third time. He sat up abruptly and grabbed the frisbee throwing it further in the opposite direction of its owners for good measure. 

He grabbed his backpack and began making his way back out of the park, past the throngs of people waiting in line for overpriced street food, all with varying degrees of excitement or annoyance on their faces. Mathieu kept weaving his way through the crowd and was they overcome with a strange thought, how many people here were supernatural and how many weren’t? If this really was an event about inclusion as the city seemed to be suggesting, were they also encouraging people to be open to strangers about what they were? Mathieu didn’t think this was a good idea, especially with how humans seemed to be getting bolder and bolder with trying to push supernaturals out because they were ‘different’. 

Triston walked alone through a seemingly endless horde of faces all bustling about the streets to make it to the festival. Triston however was walking the opposite direction, a stalwart wall that crashed through anyone daft enough to get in his way. In truth large crowds made Triston nervous, you had to be constantly aware of each and every person in the endless crowds. A task even his heightened senses struggled with. A festival sounded more like a noose to him than it did a fun and leisurely activity.

And then he stopped. Feet planted side by side as people still swarmed on by; a moment was all it took for his mind to switch. What if by not going to the festival he made himself stand out. If everyone was going there it would be seen as strange to be the one guy not going. This thought ate at him until it drove him back the way he came, back to the Festival of Fools. His footsteps carried him back to the entrance and into the festival grounds. Admittedly his surroundings did not change much. The bustling people minding their own business scattered about like ants. He didn’t stop or turn his head until he came across one of the festival’s attractions. A booth set up with a punching machine and a man dressed in a suit rambling about how to win the vehicle that was to be the prize. He went on to explain that all you had to do was beat the high score set by some hotshot boxer from Queens. Triston himself had a tendency to over due it when it came to test of strength, but a car? He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the small salesman’s face when he shattered the record in his first punch. He paid the small fee to be able to try his luck and squared up with the punching machine. “What was that high score again, Boss? 347? Alright.” Triston pulled off his shirt and dialed in on the small striking area of the punching machine and loosed a fist; the resulting sound echoed throughout the festival as if thunder had cracked through the sky. As he pulled back his fist it revealed that the punching machine had caved from the force and the number displayed on the scoreboard read out as: 999e9. The salesman stood in shock as the machine had never hit an error before. 

 “The car’s mine then right?” The salesman sheepishly handed over the keys to an Acura SUV. Not something Triston needed so he handed the keys off to some random kid walking by before walking off only hollering back at the man at the booth to say, “Make sure my name goes up on the top for next year!” Triston walked away from that booth with the cockiest smirk he could smear on his lips; it wasn’t often that he got to let loose anymore, but god when he did it would feel so good. Nearly caught up in his discussion he almost  didn’t notice the prying eyes of another. “What, Never seen a guy throw a lucky punch before? Or do you just make a habit out of staring at strangers?”

  This night he was off the clock however, and yet he still found himself preferring the atmosphere of the Brew rather than a focal point like the Festival. He stood off to the back by himself sipping on a glass of whiskey as he observed the area around him. This process went on, as he sipped the glass for a few more minutes before returning to the bar to order another drink. Resting his forearms against the bar mat upon the counter top, setting the empty glass down as he nodded nonchalantly for another round.

With the city so close to an all out war, how could anyone truly believe that a supernatural party would be able to be held without incident?

The Fourth of July Block Party had been going quite well. The alcohol was flowing, and conversation was occurring even between different species. It was almost reminiscent of the old parties that used to be held during the times of the Council when species would interact willingly and without judgement or stress, where the supernatural community felt like one as opposed to its own separate groups. But of course nothing truly great could last that long with New York City has cursed as it has been.

As full darkness finally fell, the fireworks were supposed to be a cause for celebration, an annual reminder of the history of the country, but the fireworks this year brought forth more than just pretty colors and loud noises.

Vervain and wolfsbane in the air wasn’t expected in the slightest, and for all those vampires and werewolves in the crowd, the negative impact of the poisons was almost immediate. Some claim that the substances drifted down from the fireworks, while others claim that they saw grenades or smoke bombs go off, but no matter the direct source, what’s important is that the poisoned smoke was filling the area much, much quicker than people could leave.

Many have been impacted, few are covered in burns or have been knocked out, and for an unfortunate couple of young vampires, the direct hit of vervain to their bodies gave them burns that contorted and burned their flesh faster than it could heal leaving the attack with actual causalities as well.

Now some have taken shelter in buildings, although the contaminated air is slowly making its way through the cracks, while others are just trying to run away completely. While most would think that the poison in the air would dissipate since its originating source seems to be outdoors, instead it just seems to be getting more and more concentrated. What will you do? Run? Hide? if you’re a witch and ergo unaffected, will you try and set up a protective barrier to fight?

No matter your final decision, make sure that you choose wisely. If there are people out there that are as bold to attack such a public location during such a prominent activity, who knows what else they might be willing to do.

More information from an insider:

Cut off from his questioning by the announcer shoving a large panda in his face, he couldn’t even be mad about the rude interruption since he’d only been conversing with the guy for shits and giggles. His true purpose for being at the booth was simply to keep an eye on the one directly behind the shooting gallery, the same one the wolf he’d been following for the last two days happened to be at. Talking to the man or more precisely bothering the man and making it seem like he was questioning him just gave him an excuse to stick around longer and see if there was a particular reason the wolf stuck around and not just because girl at the booth happened to be cute. Pulling at the panda’s fake nose as his true target continued to just sit there and chat, he continued. “I was thinking of something more of the polar variety. Adorable for my girlfriend but also a little badass for me. I’ll even go grizzly, you know?”